


Like a Little Word Come I

by a_sketchy_character (oliviad)



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Batfamily (DCU), Found Family, Gen, Past Relationship(s), Sibling Bonding, no editing we die like men, street siblings au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviad/pseuds/a_sketchy_character
Summary: Cass ended up in Gotham a little sooner than people think she did -- just in time to face a harsh Gotham winter. Luckily she imprints on a tough-talking street kid who probably cares about her a little more than he thinks he does.(Part of that Street Siblings AU I've indulged myself so deeply in)
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Barbara Gordon, Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Cassandra Cain, Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Stephanie Brown
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	1. Gotham Public Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this is the exact same story as the one I've done art for, so sue me. It helps me process information to try and communicate it in different forms I guess. And I LIKE reading it in both story and comic form.

They call this place Gotham -- a dirty, cold place, full of dirty, cold people who give dirty, cold looks. But when I am cold and hungry, there are warm places, too, and some of the people in them might not be nice but I am small, and I am quiet, and I can take care of myself.

Miss Gordon is nice. I've been watching her for a week, I think, while I stay in the library; it's warm here and the librarians don't seem to miss the snacks I take from their bags. Once Miss Gordon offered to help me find -- something. A book, I think, but I couldn't tell. She seemed worried. Maybe about me, but it can be hard to tell without having words to talk back and you mostly have to smile and nod and try to leave as soon as you can. It's better to watch, and it feels -- nice, watching Miss Gordon. She's nice.

Even when she's not having a good day, like today. She takes a breath each time she slides a book into the shelf _(calm, calm_ ). She's trying not to show it. She's good at hiding it, I guess, or other people seem to think so; when someone snaps at her and her shoulders tense ( _fight fight fight_ ) they don't seem to see it. She talks to them in a soft, serious voice, and they quiet down and let her smile at them. Then she goes and shelves books, while I pretend not to watch from behind my picture book. And she breathes to herself. ( _calm, calm...)_

"Jason?" Her voice is close, too close, and I snap up from my picture book -- she's not looking at me, good, _good._ Miss Gordon smiles, for real, pushing her cart across to the return desk, to the little boy staring back at her with big eyes and tight shoulders under his massive faded parka ( _scared, suspicious, go-away-and-don't-talk-to-me_ ). "Jason, I haven't seen you in weeks! How are you?"

Jason just stares for a second. And -- smiles. "I'm -- um, I'm good, I'm just--" he breaks off like he's trying to figure out what he thinks he's supposed to say next, a tiny furrow between his eyebrows. The book in his hands thuds into the narrow return slot, loudly, and he and Miss Gordon both jump a little.

Miss Gordon laughs and reaches for it. "Hey, I can take that. I'm reshelving anyway -- thank you -- and I'd say this poor book has been through enough for the day." She hefts it up, her smile fading a little. The book is scuffed around the edges, a smudge of dirt on the cover, and a flash of _bothered_ goes over her face.

"It's -- a little overdue," Jason says quickly. His feet shift, one toe tapping on the carpet, his eyes trained on her. "Sorry. I've been pretty busy."

Miss Gordon looks past the book and seems to see him again. "Don't...worry about it." She smiles. "I get it. How's your mom--?"

"She's FINE," Jason says loudly, much too loudly. Another librarian turns and gives Miss Gordon a _make-him-behave_ look, shushing just as loudly. Miss Gordon doesn't look back, but she frowns a little.

 _Lying._ That's what she thinks, and I drop my book and tilt my head towards Jason, squinting towards him. Not lying -- well, not really. He's hiding. _Scared._ Of what? Miss Gordon? She just wants to help him.

Miss Gordon taps the book Jason handed her, quiet for a minute. "How...how did you like the Iliad? I wouldn't think it was a book you'd like."

"It was good," Jason clips out, eyes wandering _awkward_ away from Miss Gordon. He meets my eyes for a second, a second too long, and I have to drop my gaze first, back to the book in my lap. I can feel him still looking at me. I turn a page, _bored,_ and will him to look away again.

"Did you have a favorite character?" Miss Gordon asks after another awkward silence.

Jason's gaze lifts from me. "Hector was okay. Most of them were stupid, though."

Miss Gordon lets out a quiet, surprised, _pleased_ laugh. "A lot of them were. The book is supposed to illustrate the foolishness of mortals, actually, so you can see that it actually did a wonderful job of portraying its themes through the main characters--"

"Yeah." Jason shifts, _impatient_ and _wanting-to-go-now_. "Did you have a favorite?"

Miss Gordon tips her head and considers the book in her hands. "Mm...remember Cassandra? The prophetess?"

Jason nods. His eyes drift back towards me, and I keep my nose in my book, _calm_ and _bored_ and _not-listening._ "Yeah. She knew everything, but she wasn't allowed to make anyone believe or understand her. I liked her too." He looks up again, _challenging_. "Was she supposed to be foolish?"

Miss Gordon laughs. "I've always just thought she was just a good metaphor for all women in Greek society -- forced to be voiceless, you know? No matter how intelligent they were, they were always second-class citizens in their culture, and barely citizens at all really--"

"I have to go." Jason bounces on his heels, still avoiding her eyes.

Miss Gordon blinks. _Surprised_. "Oh. Oh, well --" she shoves the book back into Jason's hands, so suddenly he jumps and so do I. "You can take this back with you," she says briskly. "I'd love to talk to you about it next week, if you can make the time."

Jason frowns a little. "I've already read..."

He stops. Stares hard at the top of the book for a second, like he's trying to understand. Miss Gordon puts a hand on his shoulder briefly, before he flinches and gives her a _look_ and she pulls away. "Take care of yourself, okay, Jason?" And she smiles. _Sad._

Jason doesn't look after her when she walks away, just pulls out the bill tucked in the pages of the book and gives it a hard look, _confused_ and _irritated._ Then he takes a breath, _calm._ And snorts, tucking it into the pocket of his dirty red parka.

"That...wasn't too hard," he mumbles, and catches my eye again. "What? What are you looking at?"

I look down quickly, squeezing my shoulders narrow, _small_ and _don't-notice-me_ , staring hard at picture in my book, and after a minute Jason huffs out a breath. There's a thud -- I flinch. He's dropped his book onto the shelf over my head. 

He just stays there. Not moving. Almost _threatening_ , and I try not to think of what I could do to him if he tried to fight me.

Jason exhales, kicking at the carpet. "I think the Very Hungry Caterpillar is a little young for you." 

I relax my shoulders, raising my eyes to his back as he walks off, upright and businesslike with _places-to-go_. For a minute I thought he did want to fight me. He seems angry. And scared too, but maybe it's not about Miss Gordon, or anything at all -- maybe it's just the way he is. Sometimes, if I think about it, it's the way I feel too. 

Maybe he's like me.

It isn't until I feel the wind, biting at my bare ankles, that I realize I've followed him out of the library. I just manage to stop my shiver, slipping back into the shadow of the library door. Jason shouldn't have seen me watching him. Cain would be angry. He always wanted me invisible, quiet, seeing-but-not-seen. Jason is the same way, isn't he?

I don't move, my eyes following Jason cross the street. I'll only follow him if he goes into a building, I tell myself. It's too cold to be following people in this weather especially when I'm not following them for any reason besides -- just because. 

Across the street, Jason pushes through the door into a restaurant.

I take a breath. _Calm._

I follow.


	2. Big Belly Burger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cass explores the ins and outs of fast food, a crippling guacamole addiction, and the motivations behind human evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, I guess:  
> -Reference to guacamole addiction (no, this isn't a euphemism for anything, a literal guacamole addiction)  
> -introspection on Kantian philosophies  
> -one character sorta has a panic attack near the end, though it's blacked out  
> -painfully cheesy memorized one-liners

"That'll be $7.35."

Jason looks down at the bill in his hand, slowly, _sad_ drooping down his shoulders too obviously. "Oh..."

Burger Joe just looks at him, eyes pointedly fixed away from me. He knows where I am, and he can probably tell I'm hiding, too, but Burger Joe never tells. He doesn't care enough for that. "Look," he drones, "if you can't pay for the food, don't come in, okay?"

He always tells me the same thing, if I stay in the restaurant too long. I don't like to stay there anyway. There are other warm places, and I just can't be close to that -- that SMELL without my empty stomach twisting into itself like it thinks it can satisfy its own hunger. It hurts just to be on the same block, sometimes. 

"No, I have money," Jason rushes out, the _anxious_ in his voice just a bit too poignant. "Not -- I mean, not _that_ much, but..."

I shift behind the seat of the booth I ducked into, _indignation_ prickling my throat. I don't get why he'd lie. I wouldn't -- well, okay, so I can't technically lie. With my words, at least. But why _would_ he lie? Miss Gordon gave him a LOT more money than he would need to buy one burger with, I'm sure of it. She seemed so worried for him.

Which she REALLY didn't need to be, I see now; Jason is a fiend and an absolute rascal and clearly wishes nothing but malice for any other human being. I shift again, as quietly as I can on the sticky vinyl seat, and try to subtly level a glare at the back of Jason's head. I hope he can sense my indignation. Jason is cheating Burger Joe out of a burger he could easily pay for, and that would be enough on its own but -- does he REALLY have to lay it on that thick?

He's practically gloating under his puppy eyes. Burger Joe just meets the expression with indefatigable apathy. "You have five dollars? Fine. Whatever. $2.35 off the order, and you owe me another tub of guacamole."

Honestly, I'm not sure what guacamole is. I think I heard someone at the library mention it once? But not the way Burger talks about it -- he can't seem to mention it without a strange fondness which I think...probably means he really shouldn't be having it. Jason can't help giving him a tiny, measured, smirk before he straightens out his face all calm and sedate, just to let Burger know he's cackling on the inside. Jason nods once, seriously, earnestly, very grownup. "Sure thing, Mr. Joe. I can get that for you; didn't I deliver last time?"

Last time? I fidget -- quietly, I know how squeaky vinyl seats get. How often does this particular transaction happen...?

"I'll get your food." Burger levels a look at him, straightening tall and and severe. "I'll be watching you. Don't touch the register. And DON'T touch the flip flaps." 

Flip flaps?

Jason follows the line of Burger's finger, pointing to the window, to the row of plastic plants waving groggily under the winter sun. He blinks, and so do I. "Flip flaps. Right." He tipped his head, squinting at them, before mumbling quickly under his breath, "I guess that's fair."

His eyes flick up from the window to meet mine, briefly. 

_Cr a p._

I duck behind the seat too soon to see any reaction, too soon to see any immediate widening of eyes or little breath to tell me _I-see-you_ or _I-know-you_ , and I do NOT peek out to see one now, that was sloppy, that was -- I should've ducked when he looked over to the window. I'm getting slower. Too slow, I hate how slow I am. I feel my nails sink into my palm -- a rebuke to myself -- and squeeze out a measured exhale. _Quiet._ _Shh._ _Quiet quiet quiet._

"Here's your burger," I hear Burger Joe say, and then, a little more sternly, "and here's your IOU."

Jason snorts -- casually, derisively, not like he's thinking about someone watching him, and the tightness around my lungs eases a little. _Didn't see me, didn't see me..._ I take another breath and miss what he says next.

The pure apathy in Burger's voice does nothing to help me. "Get out," with a little bit of a sigh, and Jason sighs back, exaggeratedly and definitely mocking. "Get OUT," Burger says again, this time in both pure disgust, and amusement that he does a very good job of masking, and Jason sniggers and pushes out the door.

I wait until I hear the bell of the door jingle shut before I raise my head from the seat, cautiously. I press my hands to the window. Jason's out in the street already, skipping off in complete disregard of his own -- his blatant moral failings. Shocking. Doesn't he feel at least a little guilty...? Like I would, when I lied to Cain? Or did I just feel guilty because he punished me for it? Maybe he only punished me for lying to HIM. Maybe it's okay to lie to Burger Joe about not having enough money to buy food. 

Maybe if I'm hungry enough.

I shoot a calculating look back to the register -- and I blink a little when Burger is already staring back at me with something like disapproval. "Ma'am, do you need anything?"

His tone alone seems to discourage the idea. Really he's just saying _go-away_ , in the barest of tactful terms possible.

When I hesitate he huffs, once, through his nose, like whatever he's thinking isn't worth the effort of another full sigh. "Ma'am, if you aren't going to buy anything, I'll need to ask you to leave."

 _Yep._ There it is.

Really it's just surprising he let me stay this long.

I duck my head in obedient acknowledgement and hop off the seat, glancing at him only once and thinking _jerk_ as loud as I can just to make sure he knows. I can feel his eyes on me on my way out.

The cold hits me before I can tense to meet it, the moment I open the door, and I have to bite my cheek to keep my teeth from chattering. I blink -- squint through the snow still coming down. I'll be lucky if I can find Jason again in this; I can barely see across the street. Though I don't think he crossed the street.

Wait -- which way _was_ Jason walking...?

"Looking for me?"

I squeak -- that was LOUD and rightbehindme-- and spin around, too much _fear_ pouring out of me, I have to tighten my fists and take a breath and get a good look at -- at --

Jason's looking straight at me. Frowning. "Beat it, kid."

Kid? I size him up, my heartbeat slowing. How old is _he?_ Six? He's not that big either -- maybe a couple inches taller than me, a little less skinny than me under his massive parka, but I've hurt bigger men than him.

"I saw you at the library. You followed me here?" He doesn't wait for me to answer. "I don't need another snoop getting in my business." He steps closer, just a little, enough to get into my space. He squares his chin, _threatening_ and _fearless_ and -- _trying-too-hard_. I bite my cheek, again, to stop myself from smiling. I'm close enough to see that he's faking most of it, now. Mostly he's just irritated and a little worried.

Yet somehow he seems to be under the impression that he is threatening to me, and that's a little too funny.

Jason frowns after a minute. "Look, you want to talk? Let's talk."

I blink. He leans back, a little, evidently waiting. His face is _expectant,_ and I shift uncomfortably. He -- actually wants to talk.

_(When was the last time someone asked me that?)_

I can't even explain to him why that won't work. I can't begin to think of a way to ask him to talk to me in a way _I_ know how to. The silence has already dragged on too long, and Jason's eyes are already hardening, and he frowns again. "Okay, well, why were you following me? You need somethin', kid?"

Again. _Kid?_ I don't think I'm _that_ young; I'm at least as old as he is. Is condescension _really_ necessary for him to feel intimidating...? I frown and shake my head, hard, and give him a look, and wonder if there's any way for me to physically interrogate him into a moral life.

His eyebrows pop up, disappearing under his curls. "What, you mad at me? Were you waiting to jump me later, or what? What'd I ever do to you?" I make a face again, and he snorts. "Right, like you could take me."

I mean -- I could, but I don't WANT to, I want to TALK. He asked if I did, why isn't he waiting to at least let me try?? But Jason's already turning around, putting his back to me, still smirking a little. "I'd like to see you try, little girl," he mutters.

Something inside me snaps.

I briefly catch sight of his face as I arc over him, limbs tucked neatly into the flip just like Cain taught me, then my fist is in Jason's face fast enough that I can barely stop it at his chin, his grimy parka crunching against my fingers -- I yank him forward. His eyes are wide and staring, and his face is empty of all pretense.

He is afraid, now.

The pain in my chest is what brings me back. Suddenly I hear the snow again, and Jason's quick, measured breaths -- and my own, ragged and untrained. I let Jason's parka slide through my fingers. Are my hands shaking? He's saying something now, quick, in a low _cautious_ tone; I don't know what. I squeeze my eyes shut a couple times, trying to focus on Jason's _calm-reasonable_ voice, on the sound of the snow and the cars and my shaking hands.

_Did I hurt him?_

"-- okay, if you did want to jump me in an alley, I can see how this might actually be going really well for you, but if you meant to talk then maybe you can change your plans back to that and we could do that instead of -- um -- this. What do you want to talk about? Did I take your stuff? If you left it out, it's not my fau-- er, I can maybe give it back to you."

I let out a breath. Maybe I wasn't out that long. Whatever I did seems to have worked, he understood my _upset_ and is trying to understand more. That's how talking works, right? It lets people understand each other. Jason understands me, I understand him. Him and his _fear._

When he stops talking, I blink. He's not looking at me anymore. He exhales and says a word that I don't know under his breath -- one of those words that's clearly either a profanity or a cheap knockoff of one. Then he plasters on a big, exaggeratedly fake smile. "Mikey...."

Oh -- behind me--? I spin around. Three figures are waiting in the snow behind us -- kids, bigger kids than us, a big blond boy ( _smug-amused-vindictive_ ) and a little girl swathed in scarves ( _attentive-expectant-wary_ ) and a tall skinny one in a too-big beanie. I frown at that one. He's _pleased._ And something else, something my head hurts too much to figure out.

The blond boy -- Mikey?-- practically beams, the moment he sees our gaze settle on him ( _what kind of reaction is that?_ ). "Well, well, well," he booms out, too-loudly, a little stilted, like he came up with the words ahead of time. "If it isn't Jason Todd!"

"Yeah," Jason agrees, halfheartedly. He drops his head, wincing. Mikey tips his head slightly, like this response wasn't at all what he was expecting. 

The weariness in Jason's sigh was enough to have made Burger Joe proud. I have to strain to hear what he mutters. "And I was having such a good day..."

Honestly? Me too.


End file.
